


The Junebug Waltz

by Dragonie



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Background Relationships, F/F, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, M/M, Post-Game(s), Pre-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 15:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12867843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonie/pseuds/Dragonie
Summary: Juniper's dad might roam far and wide as a Mojave Express Courier, but he always comes home.





	The Junebug Waltz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThisMessIsAPlace (McFearo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McFearo/gifts).



Juniper’s got an old memory of sittin’ on her Daddy’s shoulders as he holds her up to a broad-leafed Mutfruit tree, his lanky frame keepin’ steady as a rock beneath her as she picks the ripe purple fruits. And when old Miz McGuinness what owned the orchard caught ‘em and chased ‘em out wieldin’ a rake like a battleaxe, she remembers that snorty laugh of his as he ran for it, little Juniper still perched on his shoulders trailin’ giggles with sweet Mutfruit juice runnin’ down her chin.

His “li’l Junebug,” he calls her, when she curls up small by his side as he strokes her hair and tells her stories, grand tales of princesses befriendin’ dragons, or the things he seen out there in the wastes, and he does the voices for each character, and she reckons that worn and threadbare couch is far comfier than any throne any stoopid king ever sat on.

***

She ‘members Daddy and Ma exchangin’ Words, quick and hissy, goin’ quiet when she gets near. She tries to listen at the door, one time, with a glass held to her ear, but she can’t make nothin’ out - and then her Daddy opens the door and catches her, laughs and reminds her he done taught her that trick in the first place. And then he puts her to bed and tucks her in and reads her her favourite story and gives her a peck on the forehead as turns down the lamp, and she almost forgets that anything’s wrong.

***

She ‘members the day he left, clear as day. Daddy gives her a big long hug and kisses her on the forehead, tellin’ her he’s sorry and that he’ll always come back, but he’s a ramblin’ man and can’t stay. She don’t get it at the time, as she watches him hoist up his pack, watches him give her one last sad look before turnin’ away, watches his back get small and disappear into the mornin’ haze. He’s gone off before, on jobs, for to put food into their bellies, Ma says; it ain’t until later that she realises it’s different, this time, and by then he’s already gone far off past the horizon where she can’t follow.

***

Her Daddy comes back on a summer breeze, wearin’ the same snaggle-toothed smile she seen so often, pack fulla gifts for her and Ma. A necklace of beads, soft pink like the mornin’ sky, of somethin’ called coral; come from the sea, he says, with all the little fishes like she seen in books. Hard candy from down Baja, made from boiled cactus fruits, sweet on her tongue and sticky on her lips. A dolly from the Mojave, a big fearsome lizard-beast like in her Daddy’s stories, and he says he got it from a little town not too far away where they got a giant one standin’ on watch. And he grins and sets her on his lap and tells her of all the things he’s seen out there, all the places he’s been: Dayglow, with its spooky ghost-lights in the distance; Vault City, fulla scientific treasures hoarded away by the stuffy pricks what live there; the ocean, big and wide like you ain’t never seen, he says, like a lake only it goes on forever. She does his nails as he talks (turquoise, since he’s a Spring), and when it’s dry she tells him that when it gets chipped, he’s gotta come back and let her fix it. And he laughs, and says it’s a promise as he scoops her up in his arms and plants a kiss on her cheeks, and she holds on tight as if she could fix him here and keep him from goin’ anywhere ever again.

But he can’t stay for long, and has to go.

***

Daddy comes one day with the rains chasin’ him, showin’ how the paint’s near chipped off his fingernails, grinnin’ as he tells her that he kept his promise, as always, and gathers her in his arms, as always, and coos ‘bout how much she’s grown, as always. Ands as always, he can’t wait to show her the gifts he got: set’a books from the Boneyard, spines all neat and pages crisp like nothin’ she ever seen; a little wooden trinket from Redding, whittled in the shape of a strange beast what the locals swear lives down the mines; spiced gecko jerky from Caliente, hot and peppery in her mouth; a dolly from Río Colorado, wi’ a red dress and flowers in her hair. That night he cooks up omelettes and teaches her how to play the harmonica, and she says he sucks at it and he laughs. The next day, they sit on the porch as he tunes his banjo, and gossip about Ma’s new man, and she says he’s all right but he ain’t a patch on her Daddy, and for a few minutes there he can’t speak and his eyes look all wet, and then he hugs her for a long time and says that she’s his baby girl, his little Junebug.

***

She counts down the weeks and days ‘til he should be here, pores over maps and careful equations of where he ought to be, and how long it should take him to get home. But the date flies past, and he don’t come.

Later, she hears the news on the radio, and she can’t stop from cryin’.

***

She rushes to meet him when the ham radio brings word’a him on the horizon, slips away from her Ma and scrambles towards the edge’a the farms. She thinks to wait for him there wi’ folded arms and a tappin’ of her feet, scold him for bein’ so late and renegin’ on his promise, “Hero of Vegas” or not, but a good look at his face stops her short.

He always been a bit scarred and battered - “an’ all the more distingerished for it,” she tol’ him, primly, when he joked about it - but he got some new markin’s on him, this time, and his face looks tired and worn like she ain’t never seen it. He let his hair grow long and floppy, and when he brushes the trail-sweat outta his eyes she sees the big red scar on his forehead, raised and awful - shot to the face, mebbe, like the radio-man said - and the eye below it glassy and not seein’ her proper.

Good one sees her just fine, though, and he just stands there for a minute, like he ain’t full sure what to do next. So she takes the next move, throws herself at him, holdin’ him fierce as if to stop him from ever leavin’ again. He drops to his knees, and buries his face in her hair as he holds her, squeezin’ so tight it almost hurts.

“Missed you, li’l Junebug,” he murmurs breathlessly, and she hears his voice come ragged, feels his cheeks damp ‘gainst the crown of her head. “Missed you so much.”

***

He comes more often, now, stayin’ closer to do his work in the big city. He’s brought friends ‘round to meet her, before - Gramma Lily, Aunty Ronnie, Uncle Boone, Uncle Raul - but this one’s new. He’s a stocky man, shorter’n Daddy, wi’ a serious face and his hair done up pretty, carryin’ a stick with a big birdie on it. Daddy slings an arm ‘round his shoulders and grins and says he’s brought home a spare Daddy for her, ‘case something happens to the old one again, and the man snorts and gives him a Look, and Juniper scolds Daddy for bein’ so insensitive to her feelin’s as to be suggestin’ a replacement. But he looks happier, now, like she ain’t seen him since afore the big battle, so she can’t be  _ too  _ cross.

The man don’t say much, and talks funny when he does. Says his name is Ulysses, only it ain’t really, and he cain’t seem to give a straight answer to even the simplest of questions, an’ even her Daddy acts funny when she asks where he picked this one up.

She don’t take to him quick, looks at him with suspicious eyes ‘case he do her Daddy wrong. But he knows his way ‘round a Bighorner, as she learns when she wakes up early one morning and goes to feed the animals and finds him already there at the trough, strokin’ the bull’s ears, and it’s as gentle with him as it is with her. He can tell the ewe’s pregnant, too, even if her belly ain’t got so big yet, and he can tell how old the calves are from a glance. She tells him all their names, an’ he listens patiently, and weeks later he still ‘members every one of ‘em, and she’s gotta concede that mebbe there’s  _ somethin’ _ in him, after all.

***

Juniper comes home with the dry season nippin’ at her heels, Tiva in tow fidgetin’ with the buttons of her waistcoat. Her girlfriend’s worried; meetin’ the parents ain’t ever really easy on the nerves, and it ain’t everyone got a war hero for a Da. Juniper tells her it’ll go jus’ fine, though; Daddy’ll love Tiva, ‘cause  _ Juniper _ loves Tiva, and he only wants t’ see his girl happy. And as for Pa, well, he respects smarts, and Tiva’s got smarts and then some; jus’ stay away from mentionin’ Legion or NCR or any of that bit of history, and she should do fine.

Ezra’s on the porch like always, nursin’ a bottle of Wright’s Best beer, dark glasses shieldin’ his eyes from the Mojave sun. His gold hair’s streaked with silver, now; his scars ain’t such an angry hue these days. Pa’s by his side, patterned hair hanging long down his back like a waterfall; a couple sappy old men starin’ at the sunset. Daddy grins wide as ever at the sight of her, lifts his beer bottle in a mock salute.

“Figured it was high time you be gettin’ back, Junebug.” Taps his fingers on the brown glass, showin’ rough chips in the turquoise of his nails.

“Hope the road home was easier than last,” Pa looks up from his book, gives her a quick smile. “Going to drink us out of antivenom, keep taking rests in radscorpion nests.”

(“That were only the one time!” Juniper protests.)

“Come on, dear,” Ezra laughs, tips his sunglasses down to get a good look at the pair. He wears a patch over his bad eye; she suggested it, long ago, so’s he wouldn’t keep lettin’ his hair get all scraggly and flop in his face, and they played pirates half the day when he got it. “Don’t embarrass the girl in front of her sweetie.” He leans forward, the old chair creakin’ under him. “So, you’re the Tiva we been hearin’ so much about?”

“Er… yes, Mr. Walker, sir!” Poor Tiva don’t know what to do with herself. Juniper’s seen it before; folks get this way, talkin’ to a livin’ legend. It’s a good thing, she reckons, that her Da’s got her and Pa to keep his head from gettin’ too big.

“Ezra’ll do just fine,” he says, an’ he gets up from his chair at last, old bones creakin’. “Been a long trip, no doubt; best save th’ introductions ‘til dinner. I’ll rustle somethin’ up. Don’t spare no details, mind; I wanna know all about the woman what stole my li’l girl’s heart.” And he turns to Juniper, and his smile’s warm as the mornin’ sun, as Gramma Rosemary’s mutfruit pies, as the ol’ Bighorner-wool blanket her Ma quilted when she turned seven, still lyin’ round in her old room with the dogs sittin’ on it. “Done missed my li’l Junebug.”

And he gives her a big hug, and that’s how she knows she’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a birthday gift for my dear friend DJFero. Happy aging, old man!
> 
> (jk jk ilu <3 )


End file.
